I woke slowly this morning. From my vantage point in bed, I was able to see the sunrise. My baby was curled in the stretch of my back and I could hear the crackle the fire downstairs. There is a constant pulse of an IV the doctor sent me home with Friday. The horizon outside my window was mostly gray, soft—a snow promised in the days forecast. Then for a moment, a beautiful pink filled the horizon, then it suddenly faded back to gray. It felt like a gift to watch and see this simple moment. No fanfare—simple beauty—then the return of ordinary gray. As I grieved the passing beauty, I realized there is something astounding of the soft tones that aren’t showy as well.

Forgive me for being so absent recently. I have been in the hospital longer than I can remember. So many have given so much to protect, enjoy, and embrace my family. I have this one story about Eleanor, full of Grace, I want to share before I let myself sleep again and the story fades with all the medications I’m taking to get through each painful moment well. It is a story I will never forget, but I want it to be documented here to let her know how stunning the love in her life is to so many—especially this mama of hers.

Oh, my heart. Oh, my sad and covetous and jealous heart. I have recently been in so many interviews, and I am often asked if I struggle feeling angry over the path we find ourselves walking. My answer is typically the same: I have fought to be broken instead of bitter and angry. It’s not a simple journey.

I am a rock star at packing the basket. I fill my basket with comforts: blanket, magazine, essential oil to help avoid the awful of my port being flushed, music, lotions. My nurse and I know this dance, we have danced this dance for a long time. She and I banter, we do what we have to do, and I’m callous about it all. Then as I turn to put my head down I see Jen is crying. She hates to see this dance. She hates to see me suffer. It’s good to be reminded of heart in the midst of doing the next thing. It’s good to see tenderness, brokenness when my own heart is callused to these ugly dance moves that I’m dancing to live. I simply do them. I have forgotten how sad they are. It was good to be reminded by the cherished and kept tears of my friend Jen.

Presence over presents. I heard a beautiful mama speaking about the difference between these two while home in Indiana last week. Today is the beginning of Advent and I want so much for this holiday season to be meaningful. I want to love my people well, not through the purchasing of the right stuff, but the gentle loving of the hearts in my home. Stuff—well, that will fade, but love—that never ends. So how do we love well and fight the ugly heart of comparison over the holiday season? Don’t get me wrong; I love gift giving, but I think there is so much more for us over Christmas than searching out and finding the perfect gifts...